Fun
by VickyVicarious
Summary: A short "what-if" from 3.07 - Neal doesn't interrupt Emma and Hook until several minutes later.


This picks up right at the end of the "when" scene, if Neal did not interrupt.

* * *

"Well," Hook grinned, "that's when the fun begins."

His smile was so genuine, so open. His expression utterly unguarded, his eyes on hers, he looked happy – no, looked _eager_, anticipatory, confident, as though he _knew_ this would happen and was already looking forward to it. As though there was no doubt in his mind about this; that Emma would rescue Henry, and let him win her heart afterwards. As if it were exactly that simple.

"Fun," Emma breathed, and his smile grew. "Is that what you'd call it?"

She could feel the breath he drew in, matched with her own; the slightest little hitch to it, the forgetful, young, eager quality of it. His head tilted a little to her left. He swayed in a little closer.

"Oh, most assuredly," he sighed against her mouth, a gentle hint of warmth trembling against her skin, a reminder of what it had tasted like when they'd inhaled each other only a day ago – she'd breathed him in deep, far too deep, he was still filling her lungs even now, lingering in every breath she took. "That, and a great deal of similar terms."

Emma could feel the heat humming between them, the fabric of his coat almost but not quite brushing against her shirt. He was still smiling, still happy, still so utterly _sure_ – about _Emma_ –

"I'd settle in for a long wait before breaking out the thesaurus, Hook," she said. The words were right, but the delivery all wrong – Emma's heart was pounding, her voice gentle and low, _intimate_ and he grinned even wider, looked younger than she'd ever seen him, so much happier. There was less than an inch between them now.

"Oh, I don't know about that, love," He slowly, slowly, so obviously slowly, lifted his hand and took hold of a lock of Emma's hair. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment when his fingers curled around the strands, his lips still lingering on the word _love_.

The moment seemed to tremble, delicate as a soap-bubble.

His fingers brushed against her neck as he rearranged her hair – rough and hot and so certain, so simple, as if they belonged there, had always belonged there. Emma's breath hitched, sharp and short.

When Hook's eyes slid open, there was a different color to them than before. It was the deepest blue, painfully deep, the sort of blue that _wanted_.

"I'm finding this quite pleasant already," Hook said to her lips, fingers trembling slightly against her skin. His words surely made sense, if only Emma were paying attention to them; but all she heard was his tone, the edge of gravel to it, of need, of trust and hope and slow-burning desire.

Emma lifted her hands in a daze, loosely gripping his coat as she took a deep breath… and kissed him.

He opened to her immediately, leaning in, mouth warm and wet and so sweet. His hook slowly slid around her side, his hand slipped up her neck, his thumb pressing just against her jaw. She could feel his body pressing against hers, his heart pounding, he was so warm. He made a little noise against her mouth and kissed just a bit harder, just a bit longer, just a bit more, just kissed her, just sighed into her mouth and trembled against her, far too sweet, too longing and – and _loving_, too much in every way and she wanted _more_.

"GUYS!" Neal yelled from somewhere behind her, and Emma jumped in surprise, accidentally nipping Hook's bottom lip. He groaned, long and very low, as she pulled back, letting his coat slip out of her hands, blinking her eyes open slowly and learning again how to breathe. Taking in deep slow sighs of air, trying to _think_, trying not to –

Hook still stood there, eyes closed, lips parted just enough to show his teeth when he began to smile. It was a slow spread of a grin, content, satisfied and_ savoring_, and one eyebrow rose as his eyes slowly opened, going straight to hers.

"That wasn't me making a choice," she warned him, feeling desperate, dragged out to sea by a riptide she hadn't noticed until far too late. She couldn't do this, she refused to do this, her heart was not _being won_. "That was _not_ –"

"Like I said, Emma," Hook said, rolling each word deliberately off his tongue, "_fun_."


End file.
